Juvenile
by caalan
Summary: Was it really so bad to be juvenile? Truthfully, it was something I’d missed out on. If everyone is asking her to play ball in this fast paced world why is it so hard for me to slow down and just be? TommyJude


**Juvenile**

**Author: Caalan**

**Rating: M**

**Pairing: Tommy/Jude (post Hallelujah ep)  
Summary: Was it really so bad to be juvenile? Truthfully, it was something he'd missed out on. If everyone is asking her to play ball in this fast paced world why is it so hard for me to slow down and just be?**

I'd driven aimlessly for hours, finally relaxed after the weeks of tension before Jude's birthday. She hadn't invited me in after dropping her off with Mutt and Jeff earlier, although it had seemed she didn't want me to go. Yet, I just couldn't steer the car towards my apartment.

Who knew that telling her how I felt would actually be less complicated than denying it all this time? I'd have lost that bet. Of course, it had included locking both of us in somewhere where neither of us could cut and run. I don't really want to run, but the situation scares me at times. She is barely seventeen. Not that I am much older, but still have so much life experience in comparison. It really was a cheesy cliché', young artist hooking up with worldly producer.

But we weren't like that, me and Jude. I really need to stop looking at the circumstantial and see who she really is. Isn't that what I am asking of her? Sure, she was young, but she was not stupid or vapid. She was a vibrant, take no prisoners, sing-it-from-the-heart-cause-there-is-no-other-way, woman.

Woman. I grinned as I thought of her expression if I ever dubbed her "woman." _Woman, you're gonna have to do better than that if you actually want to sell this track. Woman, you want to hit that high note not beat it to death._ Yeah, there'd be an expense sheet for new glass in the studio if I attempted that.

But she certainly was no girl. We wrote a song together tonight; from things we were both feeling. It'd been the most rewarding evening I'd ever spent in the company of a female. Sure, I'd helped her tweak songs before but this time I was certain of the inspiration for it.

When Jude had written _Skin_, I'd been sure it was about me, that I'd been the one to bring that kind of emotion to the surface for her and I had been mistakenly flattered. The song had given me chills, and I had been secretly excited to see the hint of the woman in Jude, of the raw power.

But I'd been wrong about its source. This time I knew I was the reason and to see her transform her feelings regarding me into song, even bad feelings, gave me such a deep sense of satisfaction and commitment. She was amazing. She didn't just flow with the music; it emanated from her. Then she theoretically held out her hand and swept me up in it with her.

Better than sex.

Well, that's what it was really, just without all the technical touching and clothing removal. There was a revelation of feeling, a soul-touching connection in creating that song together, and I'll be damned if there wasn't post-coital cuddling…just without the coital. Even a kiss would have been superficial.

Oh, who am I kidding? I whipped the Hummer around and headed back in her direction.

I sat outside for several minutes, just watching her house. I was about to talk myself out of it, the ridiculousness of devising a way to sneak her out seeming so juvenile. Then I wondered why that even bothered me. When had I ever had time to be juvenile, wasn't it supposed to be fun? I'd spent most of my older teen years in a whirlwind of tours and parties and alcoholic stupor.

So I got out and walked to just under her window, looking around for a rock, a pebble, a stick. I tossed a few up and remembered that Jude slept like the dead and that this particular attempt at juvenile romance would be lost on her. Cell phones were invented for a reason.

There was a resounding thump, a muffled curse worthy of any sailor, and the reward of her bedside lamp flaring to life. Her voice was caustic in my ear, "Whoever you are, there'd better be damn good reason and it would help if you looked like Brad Pitt and knew how to kiss away an owie….Owww…fuu..."

"Jude."

"Tommy?"

"Could you come out here for a sec?"

Her curtains parted slightly as she peeked outside, and I held up the offering of a white bag from her favorite all-night burger haunt. I knew she'd probably not eaten much since missing her party at Caveman Days.

"If there is even one cracker in that bag, you are fired. Again." She disappeared from view only to sneak out the front door moments later in a massive tee shirt and a hideous pair of printed pajama bottoms not to be outdone by the pair of hot pink fuzzy slippers.

I couldn't help but tease. "Hmmmm, sex on a stick."

"Shut up, Quincy, and give me that burger."

"Come on, let's go for a drive."

"How come Julia gets Gere with flowers and a limo and I get Little Tommy Q with a grease pattie in an SUV."

I looked her up and down and even though she grinned, I saw the blush. "Might have something to do with those slippers. Come on, girl."

I drove to the neighborhood park, choosing the darkest, most secluded spot to park, hoping she'd not make a comment as I pointed for her to exit and opened the rear so that we could perch on the back. I was both relieved and amused that she simply snatched away the sack looking for her promised dinner.

She grimaced as she unwrapped the first burger, "Ewww, pickle? Nasty. Must be yours," handing me the sandwich.

"Get real, girl. Once you've had the pickle you never go back."

She snorted and grinned at me, "That sounds really wrong."

I ducked my head and tried to hide my amusement, "It is, it is, but I just can't quit them."

She groaned at my lame joke and dived into her dinner. It was a comfortable silence but it left me wondering. Jude was a very curious person and it was unusual for her to not question what had happened earlier tonight in that abandoned club.

She simply ate, relishing the food and occasionally giving me a tiny smile, not in the least bit motivated to shatter the mood. She was quiet even during her methodical clean up of our wrappers, crushing them and the bag into a ball and shuffling in her slippers to the trash receptacle a short distance away. She returned and perched next to me again, swinging her feet, her head ducked low, eyes hidden from me beneath that fringe of long blonde bangs.

In the end, I was the one who caved and risked the peace in exchange for further acknowledgment that she understood me.

"I meant what I said earlier." I paused, waiting for her to hold my gaze.

Unflinching, she did, her voice low but strong. "Technically, you didn't say anything, Tommy." At my look of disappointment, she added, "But yeah, I know."

"I never meant to hurt you or push you away last year, Jude. It just seemed an impossible situation." I could see the hurt was still there, and I couldn't help but drop my gaze to the ground.

"Yeah, so the brilliant solution was to add Sister Sadie to the mix. See, and all this time I thought Tommy Q preferred to go solo rather than get involved in some bad cliché'."

I couldn't help but retaliate a little, "Oh, and this thing with us isn't one? Up and coming artist and her hot producer?"

Her brows knitted and her lower lip protruded in a slight pout. "I never said you were hot," she muttered, conceding the point. "But it doesn't make it less real, Tommy."

"No, I don't think it's going to just go away. I don't think I want it to." Her wide blue eyes locked onto mine at my confession and I felt bold enough or just maybe juvenile enough to continue. "Tonight, for the first time, I realized how it could be….how it should be." I hoped she didn't question what "it" was. I don't know that I'm ready for such words yet, not so directly.

She simply stared, eyes wide…waiting. My voice seemed to drop even lower in an attempt to not come out, "And I want…it. I want…you."

Again it seemed like she was just going to soak in those words and sit still. As if it was her life-long ambition to prove me wrong, she launched herself at me, locking her lips onto mine. I opened up to her and drew in everything about her. Her taste, her scent, and was about to laugh at the absurdity of the feel of her through flannel pajama bottoms before the realization hit me at how "opportunistic" such an outfit really was.

I leaned back into the vehicle, dragging her on top of me, opening the kiss further, sliding my hands up to the hem of that massive shirt. She pulled away from the kiss to watch my face as I held her to me with one hand and slowly slid the other up her bare spine. I watched the emotion and hunger play across her face and the moan she let loose was sweeter than any high note she'd ever sung. She leaned back, inviting me, begging me, to bring those hands around and up. I couldn't.

"Tommy, don't."

"Jude, I have to stop. I have to."

"I don't want you to."

I pushed back up into a sitting position with her in my lap. "I need to. I'm not going to deny anything, Jude. I'm not running. But there are things that need to get taken care of."

As if remembering all the other aspects of our lives, she sobered in agreement, again simply acknowledging me with, "Yeah." I knew she was thinking of her sister and Speiderman and how complicated and cliché' it really was.

I ducked into her line of vision and whispered, "I'm ready to wait, Jude." Her eyes watered but the crinkles at the corners gave away her happiness. I teased, "But it's just going to be….so….hard," I pushed up into her and she laughed, "resisting sex on a stick."

"And what about that, Quincy, how do you propose we get through all that … anticipation."

I nibbled at the column of her throat, "I suggest you sing…from your heart." And she did, right then and there, and the feel of the vibration of her song beneath my lips, caused me to forget for just a few more minutes what was waiting for us. I rolled her beneath me, fuzzy slippers and all, reveling in the feeling of being with my girl, in the back seat, and loving every juvenile second.

The End

**A/N: Reviews are like promo clips that show hot kisses between pretty people, I can't get enough of them.**


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